


A Human Being is Worth More than Air

by Flyndragon



Category: One Piece
Genre: Continuation of Malkytop's mr. cellophone, Gen, Sanji/suffering, might edit later to add more suffering, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 00:06:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16586885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flyndragon/pseuds/Flyndragon
Summary: Sanji gets the worst form of invisibility. The crew doesn't think it's strange that food simply appears before them until they do. Sanji/suffering





	A Human Being is Worth More than Air

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [mr. cellophane](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10884876) by [MalkyTop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalkyTop/pseuds/MalkyTop). 



When Sanji wakes up, Lithe Domina is gone.

He scowls, because of fucking course that bastard is gone. Any man who hits a woman in some sort of lame attempt to establish dominance or some shit isn’t the type to hang around and get his ass kicked like a man. He was a weak cowardly asshole, and Sanji wished he could have thoroughly beaten him down and then made him go apologize to the lady before tying him up and leaving him for marines to find.

But the last thing he can recall is Domina looking him in the eyes and screaming ‘Forget! YOU ARE NOTHING!’. And maybe he had some sort of devil fruit power, because Sanji can’t remember anything after that. Maybe he was trying to make Sanji forget his shitty behavior, but he failed at that, because Sanji can still remember most of the day before, and most of the fight, how it started with just himself and Luffy in the bar and eventually grew to include Zoro, Brook, and Robin-chan as well.

He pulls himself off of the ground slowly, head killing him. Where were those shitty bastards anyway? Did they really just leave him there? He couldn’t hear any sound of fighting, so they were probably back on the ship already. There was no way that all of them would be taken or killed by one coward and a couple of his stupid men, potential devil fruit or no.

Sanji scowled and started making his way back to the Sunny. If those assholes forgot him they were going to have vegetarian dinners for a week.

It was only hours later that he realized something was Wrong.

He hadn’t seen anyone as he came onto the ship, even though they quite a few of them had been in a fight, and Chopper would usually keep them on board afterwards, if only so he could satisfy the mother hen inside him. Making sure they weren’t bleeding out on the inside or something.

But no one was back.

The only one there was Zoro, napping in his usual spot, even though by this time it was almost dark out.

“Hey, Marimo. Shithead! Where is everyone?” he shouted, but Zoro didn’t even wake up.

That’s it. Potato stew and deep fried kale tonight. No meat or sake for anyone. Unless his beloved Nami and Robin wanted some of course! But . . .

He ignored the twinges in his head and the sense of something wrong in his gut in favor of beginning dinner.

A few hours later he heard everyone come back one by one, almost automatically cataloging their order of arrival by the voices and footsteps. First was Chopper and Luffy, the bounciness of his captain’s step and the small click of hooves giving them away even if their excited, high pitched voices didn’t. Next was Usopp, with his surprisingly light gait, then Nami and Robin, unmistakably his two beautiful angels. Then, Franky, who makes the entire ship lean slightly as he steps aboard.

It was perfect timing, actually. The stew had just reached what he would call finished and the kale chips were still crisp out of the oil. The stew was ladled over slices of crusty bread for each person, and the veggies were put into baskets. Sanji added some rolls, and drinks – water and milk and cola and his table was set. It certainly wasn’t the fanciest or tastiest meal he had put together, but fuck it, he had probably gotten kicked in the head or something today, because the slight soreness he had felt after regaining consciousness had turned into a full-blown throbbing.

But he ignored it in favor of ringing the dinner bell.

Soon all of the crew were seated around the table eating – even Zoro, who had probably been woken by everyone else’s return. They all looked . . . fine. Like they had never been fighting today. Sanji observed them carefully as he scrubbed his pans and left his big pot to soak. Had he just imagined the whole thing?

But no.

“So,” Nami began, “whatever happened to that Lithe Domina guy anyway?”

“Ran away.” Zoro answered, mouth still full of food.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, shithead!” Sanji yelled, but was promptly ignored in favor of Usopp, who began with, “Yes! He was truly a coward! I, the great Usopp, once fought off two – no – two hundred pirate crews by myself!”

“Really!?” Chopper exclaimed.

“Indeed! It was on a sleepy island much like this . . .”

Sanji lit a cigarette and took a long drag.

“So, why did you jerks just leave me there?” he said. “I could have been hurt, you know!”

They ignored him.

“OI! What’s with the cold shoulder!?” He shouted.

Usopp continued his story, listened to intently by Chopper and Brook. Robin-chan and Nami-swan were conversing quietly about the next island en route. Shitty rubber was still stuffing his face, only now he was edging his hand towards Robin’s plate.  
Sanji kicked him in the head, as usual. But instead of whining and complaining about wanting more food like usual, Luffy went straight back to eating, this time reaching for the communal pot still left on the table.

What the fuck.

“Guys. Guys. This is a joke. This is a fucking shit joke, right?” Sanji said, desperation edging into the corners of his voice.

He circled the table, staring into each of their faces. Nothing.

Sanji jumped up and down. He did a cartwheel. He snapped his fingers in Zoro’s face and pulled on Usopp’s hair.

Nothing.

He kicked Luffy in the head again for good measure.

Absolutely nothing.

Fuck.

He needs to find Lithe Domina.

After dinner is cleared Sanji leaves the ship – doesn’t have to sneak, or make excuses, because, apparently, nobody can fucking see him. From where they’re docked, the town is only a ten-minute walk, so Sanji takes his time, finishing his cigarette and grinding it into the ground. That man is either going to fix this or die.

Problem - nobody in town can see him either.

He tries talking to the barmaid at the tavern, the tavern owner and a couple of random people before he realizes that he is well and truly screwed. He still takes a look in each of the inn’s rooms, because who’s going to stop him, but Domina isn’t there either. And no duh – he was a pirate, and probably had a ship. He probably left in the middle of the day, when they had kicked his ass and he had done whatever the fuck this is to Sanji.

He returns to the Sunny a defeated man. He showers, brushes his teeth, and goes to bed alongside his nakama without any of them once looking at him or talking to him. But he goes to bed optimistic nonetheless. Maybe whatever this is will wear off by morning.

It doesn’t wear off.

Not in the morning, not the next day, not the next week.

Sanji . . . deals.

Not that he would call himself a master of dealing with shit. Hell, he still has fucking nightmares about his family and that fucking mask sometimes, even though that was almost a decade ago now. So yeah.

Mostly he does what he always has done, which is cook. For a while meals get ridiculously elaborate, because if he’s in the kitchen putting together a masterpiece, he can almost pretend that nothing is wrong. He can pretend that the others are just showing some fucking courtesy for once and leaving him alone to work in peace.

Those are the best times.

The worst times are mealtimes, when the crew all file in at the sound of the bell and sing praises over the food to nobody, and no one looks at him. He used to enjoy watching his nakama enjoy the fruit of his labor more than pretty much anything, but now he just spends the time washing dishes, mostly.  
  
The dishes need to get done after all.

He almost sighs in relief when the whole lot of them file out, chattering amongst themselves as always. Never talking to him. They usually don’t hang out in the kitchen anymore. Not like they used to, perhaps sensing that there was someone or something else there. Ad avoiding it, but what does he expect?

But tonight, Usopp is left at the table, half asleep. He probably doesn’t even realize that the others are gone yet, and no fucking wonder. Their sniper had woken up with a shout at like three in the fucking morning and had raced down to his workshop before Sanji could even throw a shoe at him. He hadn’t attended breakfast or lunch either, too caught up in whatever the hell he was cooking up down there.

Sanji takes pity on him and places some chamomile and mint tea in front of the poor bastard when he goes to collect Usopp’s plate. Hopefully he’d fall asleep and wouldn’t feel the need to wake all of them up at unreasonable times of the night again.   
But as he places the mug down, all of a sudden Usopp snaps to awareness and his eyes lock on to Sanji.   
And he is seen.

“Sanji?” Usopp says.

“Usopp” He says back, his voice rough. Of course it is, he hasn’t spoken all week.

Usopp jumps out of his chair. “Sanji, you’re here, you’re here! Where have you been? Oh, my god, have you been here? The cooking, that was you!”

“No duh, shithead!” Sanji says, but he’s smiling and his eyes might be a bit wet. “Who the fuck else would be cooking on this ship?!”

“Sanji!” Usopp shouts, “we have to tell everyone, come on!”

Usopp barges through the kitchen door out on to the deck, Sanji following close behind. Usopp storms up to the railing and shouts ‘Hey, everybody!’ and Sanji has to make sure that he stops himself from crying because finally this goddamn thing is over and his crew will be able to see him again. He’ll have to make extra drinks and desserts for his ladies for the next week to make up for all the time missed.

The rest of the crew come running, or at least walking, from wherever they had been relaxing after dinner.

Luffy comes bounding up in his usual rubbery way and shouts “Hey Usopp, what’s up?”

Usopp pauses. He doesn’t say anything.

“Well, tell them about me, shithead!” Sanji shouts, the high of a moment ago fading. “Tell them you saw me, you figured out the mystery of the food and shit! Tell them!”

Usopp chuckles and shrinks into himself slightly. “Sorry Luffy, guess I forgot, haha.”

Sanji kicks the bastard over the railing onto the grass deck and the rest of the crew burst out laughing. Sanji just stalks into his kitchen.

If he cries while he cleans the rest of the dishes, nobody can see him anyway.

  
The next to see him is Zoro, weirdly enough, because Sanji never thought the idiot swordsman was that observant – at least not like Usopp, who can see danger from fucking 20 knots away. But nonetheless, Sanji has a brilliant idea, if he does say so himself, to use one of Zoro’s ridiculous weights as a meat tenderizer. His actual tenderizer had gotten lost in some sort of stupidity a couple of weeks before this whole mess and he hadn’t yet asked his gracious Nami-swan to loan him enough money to buy a new one.

So he goes up to steal a dumbbell or something when a hand catches his wrist. Zoro looks down, AT him, and fuck, Sanji has never been so happy to have been caught stealing something in his life.

“Curly brow?” Zoro says, a question in his tone.

“Marimo.” Sanji replies, trying to sound as harsh as usual and failing.

“What – where the fuck have you been?” Zoro says, letting go of Sanji’s wrist and looking confused as shit. “What the fuck is going on?”

Sanji swallowed heavily and explained. Every moment saw Zoro’s expression get darker. By the end of the short story Zoro’s hands were clenched on one of his swords like he wanted to pull it out and start hacking away at things until the situation resolved itself.

“We’ll kill him,” Zoro assured Sanji, looking him straight in the eye, “No one messes with this crew and gets away with it.”

Sanji knew that would happen if they knew about the problem. But they don’t know. Except for Zoro, at this very moment, but Sanji would bet his very hands that Zoro will forget just like Usopp did.

Only a minute later Sanji is proven right. Zoro looks away for just a moment and doesn’t look back at him. Sanji takes the dumbbell and leaves to finish dinner. It’s too bad. Even the shitty marimo to talk to is better than absolutely no one.

But soon most of his nakama start seeing him, if only in fits and bursts. Sanji tries to work out why it happens at some times and not others, but the only constant is that he has to be alone with one of his crewmates.

They see him for different amounts of time, too. He can have full conversations with Ussop and his lovely Robin when he catches their eye. Chopper too, if not for quite as long. Brook saw him only once, but they had spoken for nearly an hour. Franky sees him nearly every time they’re alone together, but forgets after only thirty seconds or so. Nami-swan rarely sees him, but every time she does, it’s a gift from the gods themselves. Zoro almost always tries to storm off and kill Lithe Domina before they finish a conversation, the idiot. What is he going to do, swim back to that shitty, no name fucking island? They’re in the middle of the ocean for fuck’s sake!

Luffy has yet to see him. Sometimes, Sanji thinks that he can hear the captain shouting his name, or asking for meat, but every time he turns Luffy is looking away. He must just be hearing things.

He’ll be fucking talking to coconuts soon enough, Sanji thinks wryly. He just hopes he doesn’t become so attached he forgets to cook them.

  
It’s two whole months before he contemplates that maybe. Maybe it’s better this way.

All he’s ever been good for is cooking and fighting. And even when Sanji is like this, he can still cook, and is probably be even better at fighting now that he has the constant advantage of surprise. If his crew could somehow communicate with him he’d be a perfect spy. Or be a perfect assassin, and it makes him chuckle to think of any of his siblings lusting after this shitty state of being.

And this thing makes sure that nobody connected with the Vinsmokes will ever find him either, so there’s that.

It’s better this way. This way he can still be a part of the crew, and he will cause less trouble for them in the long run, and he will even get to achieve his dream, just by following his beautiful Nami-swan, who will have to travel the entire world for her map anyway.

So it’s ok. Everything’s ok. And eventually, probably, that Domina guy will die, but he should take advantage of this while he can. And maybe those few instances where his crew can see him will grow longer, and this will get more bearable. Maybe not.   
His life is full of maybe’s. The only certainty is that he had best get this baby sea king in the oven now if he wants it to be ready in time for dinner.

  
“Sanji?”

“Nami-Swan!!”

She’s confused, until he explains.

“You better not be peeping on me, or I swear to God!”

“I would never shame you like that, Nami-swan! Though if you want to show me something to cheer me up, I wouldn’t object-”

He honestly should have seen the fist to the head coming

  
Sanji really doesn’t peep, not when the girls could end up seeing him. And though they would forget about him only a moment later, he can’t risk them remembering when (if) this thing ends. Sanji can’t risk getting thrown off the crew, not after all of this. And even though he’s a pervert, Sanji know peeping crosses the line. He would never make his beautiful princesses feel uncomfortable like that.

This power has ruined invisibility for him. He burns with hate every time it crosses his mind.

  
Only a few days after he contemplates about this being an alright situation, Sanji decides that no, fuck this shit this fucking sucks, definitively and for good because of course, of fucking course the shitty marines that haven’t landed a single meaningful shot on him in twenty years can now, all of a sudden, hit him straight in the stomach from 50 yards away while he’s invisible.

God. God, it hurts so bad, and he can let himself cry and scream and writhe in pain on the grass deck, because no one can fucking see him anyway and if they did he would be glad, because maybe they would help…

But no one’s coming. He’s on his own, even with his whole crew sitting around him. In a way it’s weirdly nostalgic – how many times would this scenario play out except with his siblings instead of his crew? Maybe he would be able to appreciate it more if he wasn’t in such indescribable pain.

He eventually gets up, first on his knees, and then staggering to his feet. Sanji has to brace himself against the mast for a minute before making an agonizing trip up the stairs and into the infirmary. He knows he’ll need to treat the would but he hasn’t even looked at it yet – hadn’t taken his hand off of the entry point in his gut since he felt himself get hit.

Chopper is there.

Sanji wants to cry, to scream for help, but it wouldn’t so any good.

Except now, here, miraculously, Chopper sees.

The little reindeer practically leaps from his seat.

“Sanji? The mystery food, you’re our cook, Sanji!”

This is where he would ordinarily cut off whoever he’s talking to, but he can’t breathe deep enough to speak.

“Sanji! you’re hurt!”

No shit, he thinks.

“Someone call a doctor! Oh wait, I am the doctor! Hold on Sanji, I’ll take care…”

He passes out before the little reindeer can finish his sentence.

When he wakes up again, he still feels like hell. But not quite as bad of hell.

He’s still lying where he collapsed, but his shirt has been cut off. Looking down, he can see that there are now stitches on his stomach. But they only go halfway across the gaping wound. Like Chopper forgot what he was doing and wandered off in the middle.   
That’s probably exactly what happened.

But the bottom is now completely open. If chopper thought it would need stitches, then it probably wouldn’t close on it’s own, no matter how much Sanji wished.

He picks up the still attached needle, and yens for a cigarette and a bottle of whiskey more than he ever has in his entire life. Zeff had taught him how to put in stitches on a side of pork a long time ago. It had been a part of the old man’s Kitchen first aid that all of the Baratie learned, essential when you float so far from shore.

Sanji just never thought he would have to do this to himself.

He manages to finish sewing up the wound, even though every dip of the needle in and out of his skin makes him want to vomit. It’s a mercy when he finishes and passes out again, still lying in his own dried blood.

The second time he wakes up, there’s a small bottle on his chest. Attached is a note, that says “Take 2 times per day until empty.”

It takes what feels like forever, but Sanji manages to haul himself to his feet. The kitchen is closer than the men’s dormatory, so he goes there, instead.

With just how tired he is, Sacks of grain are just as comfortable as any hammock could be.

  
When he starts leaving the notes that say KILL LITHE DOMINA all over the ship, it’s partially directions for his crew, but mostly an outlet for his despair. It keeps him from carving his name into the walls.

  
“Sanji?”

Franky, now.

“Yeah, It’s me. I’m behind all of the mysterious food, I’m the one who’s been leaving notes, that bastard Lithe Domina did this to me, you’ll probably forget about me again in a couple of minutes.”

The big guy blubbers.

“It’s ok Bro! I won’t forget you, I prom-”

He’s already back to tinkering

Sanji collects his laundry and heads back to the upper decks.

  
Loneliness is a funny thing.

Sanji heard a song once, abut being so lonely in a crowded room. He hadn’t understood it then. The only time he had really been lonely was when his father had shoved him in a cell and thrown away the key.

But he understood, now, as the rest of his crew celebrated with the village they had just rescued a corrupt marice/pirate duo. The feast and beer had been provided by the villagers. Normally he would join right in, cooking some of their own stock and sampling every dish the locals brought, in search of new flavors, new combinations.

Sanji sat back this time. He watched his crew, dancing (Nami, Chopper and Ussop), playing (Brook), eating (Franky and Luffy) and drinking (Zoro and Robin).

Now he understands the song. He gets how someone can be together and alone at the same time. It makes him want to cry, but he’s already cried so much since this started three months ago that it’s like he physically can’t anymore.

He goes back to the Sunny to take stock of their food supply. It’s definitely because that’s a job that needs to be done and not because he can’t watch his friends happy without him for one more goddamn second without doing something stupid.

  
“Sanji?”

Brook, this time.

“Yeah, It’s me. I’m behind all of the mysterious food, I’m the one who’s been leaving notes, that bastard Lithe Domina did this to me, you’ll probably forget about me again in a couple of minutes.”

The skeleton paused.

“Would you like to request a song?”

A moment of silence.

“Bink’s Sake, please.”

  
Sanji takes a good, hard look at the bread knife.

He’s been assuming that the crew will remember him if Domina dies.

Will they remember him if he dies first?

Sanji doesn’t eat very much these days. It’s easier to cook, then go out for a smoke while his friends are eating, then come back in to do the dishes.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to see them. Actually he spends more time out of the kitchen now, letting things boil and simmer outside of his supervision while he hangs out with chopper and luffy on the grass deck, or watches Nami carefully tend to her mikan trees. Every moment where he can pretend he’s still a real part of the crew is precious, and he cherishes it.

He spoke to Robin the other day. It’s almost four months into this curse. Sanji told her that he was fine, that she shouldn’t worry.

Sanji is a liar.

  
It’s dusk. Nearly night, because most of shipmates are taking showers, getting ready for bed. But Sanji, instead, stands up by the figurehead, looking over the rails at the dark water below. He contemplates.

Sanji doesn’t have a devil fruit, but the water would be just as deadly if he let it take him.

“Sanji?”

It snaps him out of his reverie. He hasn’t heard his name in that voice for so long.

“Luffy.”

He doesn’t even try to explain. Sanji thought that all of his tears had been shed, but they’re welling up in his eyes irregardless.

“Who did this to you?” Luffy says. He sounds serious as the grave, a vanishingly rare phenomenon.

Sanji chokes on his own words. “Domina.”

Then he’s crying. It’s no stoic, manly crying, the type that Zoro would only tease him about once. No, this is full on ugly crying.

He can’t make it stop. It doesn’t stop, not even when Luffy wraps him in a firm grasp.

“We’ll find him, don’t worry.”

“You,” Sanji says, “You won’t even remember this soon.”

Luffy reaches up, and at first Sanji thinks that he’s been patted on the head. It’s not until the hug ends that Sanji realizes that the brim of Luffy’s hat is hanging in front of his eyes.

“Sanji,” his captain says, staring him in the eyes, “I promise, even if I do forget you, I’ll never abandon you. I’ll fix this, even if I forget a million times in a row.”

And even when Luffy forgets, Sanji can almost still believe him.

  
From a certain perspective, the curse ends anticlimactically. If this were one of Ussop’s stories, it would end with Domina being tracked to the neds of the earth and being heroically killed, but not before the Straw-Hats had to fight through legions of pirates.

From Sanji’s perspective, all of his hopes and dreams are suddenly fulfilled.

He’s just but the final dishes on the table when he hears his name.

"Sanji?"

it’s Ussop again, and Sanji readies his usual spiel, but then his name comes again.

In a different voice.

“Sanji?”

The another.

“Cook-san?”

Another.

“Sanji! Meat!"

Everyone. Everyone’s there, and can see him. They see him.

He can’t keep the smile off his face.

“It’s about time. Dinner’s ready.”

“SANJI!”

Sanji gets tackle hugged to the ground. He doesn’t have it in him to pretend like he doesn’t enjoy it.

**Author's Note:**

> Continuation to Malkytop's Mr. Cellophane, with permission.
> 
> This was written over the course of a couple of years, but was pretty much finished in 1 night while avoiding schoolwork. please feel free to add constructive criticism in the comments. 
> 
> I will most likely be editing this at some point to add more of that sweet sweet angsty goodness, so if you for some reason decided to read this piece of trash twice and think it looks different, that's not just you.


End file.
